


Under the Mistletoe

by roseandheather



Category: Honor Harrington Series - David Weber
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-18 00:28:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1408255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseandheather/pseuds/roseandheather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sprig of mistletoe and a matchmaking admiral change Augustus and Estelle's relationship forever. But though they'd like to blame it all on outsiders, what happened after that first kiss is no one's fault but theirs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This actually comes from a prompt Aoife gave me in the dim, misty reaches of the past - in fact, I think she's forgotten she's responsible! - but what was supposed to be an innocent holiday kissing fic took on a life of its own. But hey, if it gets my OTP laid, who am I to argue?? Unabashed smut upcoming!

“Well,” said Augustus Khumalo with a roguish grin, “this little event seems to have been a roaring success.”

“I have to agree,” said Dame Estelle complacently, surveying the state ballroom of the Governor’s Mansion. Virtually every officer in the system above the rank of Lieutenant Commander was in attendance tonight, and the room glittered with officers in mess dress and Talbotters in formal civilian garb.

Dame Estelle herself wore a gown of deep burgundy, fitted tightly at her waist but with full flared skirts in the Montanan fashion, and the rich color set off her dark eyes and hair - not to mention her truly stunning figure - to perfection.

Augustus’ jaw had nearly hit the floor when he first saw her, and he was still privately grateful that she’d been looking the other way at the moment he’d arrived.

 _Some things_ , he thought, _really should remain hidden._  

“And the best part,” continued Estelle, seemingly oblivious to Augustus’ inner debate, “is that they are all so busy talking to each other that none of them come and talk to _me_.” She sent a dazzling smile his direction, and one hand clenched into a fist as he fought back the desire to kiss that smile right off her face. “Except for you, of course, but it’s an exception I’ll welcome gladly.”

“You, my lady,” said Augustus, ruthlessly quashing the surge of desire, “are a flatterer.”

“It’s only flattery if it isn’t true,” she shot back.

“Touché,” he murmured, and kissed her hand.

“There you two are,” said a furry contralto, and Estelle beamed as Michelle Henke, her hair braided with red and silver ribbons in honor of the season, came toward them. “Hiding from the masses?”

“Absolutely not,” said Augustus crisply.

“What we’re doing,” continued Estelle, “is making a tactical retreat - ”

“- so our guests are free to socialize without their ultimate superiors looking over their shoulder.”

Henke studied them for a moment. “You know,” she said, “that was almost eerie.”

“Not really,” said Estelle, with an uncharacteristically girly giggle. “Spend enough time plotting - that is, _planning_ with someone, and you start to pick up on how they think.”

“You have a point,” said Henke, in a tone that suggested deep suspicion of the absolute truth of their statement. “I have to wonder, though,” she continued, with an expression remarkably resembling a ‘cat in a celery patch, “if either of you have noticed exactly where you’re standing.”

“Admiral Gold Peak, what are you on about?” demanded Khumalo.

Silently, Henke pointed ceilingward.

“Oh my,” said Estelle, as she looked upward and saw a particularly large clump of mistletoe hidden in the corner of the ceiling above them.

Under his dark skin Augustus had paled dramatically, but neither of the women were looking at him - for which he was incredibly thankful.

“There’s no pressure, or anything,” said Michelle with a sharklike grin, “but you do know that if you don’t, it’s bad luck!”

With a perfectly correct bow, she wandered away, whistling “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” with every step.

“She has a point, you know,” said Estelle after a long moment, turning to look up at him. “It would be bad luck.”

“So I’ve heard,” managed Augustus around the lump in his throat. “And where’s the harm?”

“Exactly,” said Estelle, just a touch too enthusiastically, though Gus didn’t notice. “It’s only a kiss, after all.”

“That’s right.” With a shy, almost boyish smile, he reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. “Estelle-”

“Yes,” she said, her eyes wide and bright.

His hand moved to cup her cheek, and then, gently, almost tenderly, he lowered his head and touched his lips to hers.

It should have been over in the space of a breath, a nod to holiday tradition done and forgotten before the hour was gone. It should have been casual, a memory to laugh at months and years down the road.

After all, what’s a kiss between friends?

Nothing - if friendship was truly the only thing there.

He brushed her lips with his, ignoring the shock of desire lancing down his spine, ready to pull away - and then Estelle made a soft, wanting, almost needy sound in the back of her throat and curled her fingers into the fabric of his uniform tunic.

His mind blank, his heart pounding, he curled one arm around her waist, slid his free hand into her hair, and lifted her off the floor.

She was light as a feather in his arms, her free hand curling around his neck, and she made a soft sound of pure wonder, her mouth parting under his.

Head swimming, toes curling in his boots, he curled his tongue around hers and forgot everything except the glory of Estelle Matsuko melting in his arms.

Heat scorched through every vein, fire licking his skin wherever he touched her. She was all heat, all warmth, passionate beyond his wildest dreams. He could have wept for the preciousness of the woman in his arms, with her long lush lashes and fierce heart and golden tongue. Nothing existed but the taste of her, the sheer joy of her mouth and the silk of her hair, and somewhere in the deepest recesses of his heart he began to hope at last.

He didn’t realise he’d stopped breathing until her fingers spasmed in his tunic and she pulled away, her face flushed crimson, her eyes vibrant with wanting, her breath coming in sharp pants as she laid her head on his shoulder.

“Oh my God,” she murmured, and hid her face against his neck.

He clutched her close, his body shaking, and pressed his lips helplessly to the crown of her head.

“How long?” she demanded hoarsely, not looking up. “And why did you never tell me?”

He didn’t dare answer her first question. “Why did you never tell _me?_ ” he asked instead, in a voice that sounded rough and disused.

Now she did look up at him, her eyes wide and wondering. “I didn’t know,” she whispered, and reached up to cup his cheek. “Not until you - ” Her eyes narrowed suddenly. “Nice try,” she said crisply, though the effect was ruined somewhat by the fact that her feet still hadn’t touched the ground. “I _felt_ it, Gus, but I didn’t know what it was - you were holding back, like you were afraid. And then, all of a sudden, you weren’t. _How long?_ ”

“Monica,” he said simply, and waited for her to pull away completely.

“Monica,” she repeated, stunned, and didn’t move.

“I started to think about never seeing you again,” he admitted, starting to babble now. “About the way your eyes flash when you’re angry and the way you never need to raise your voice and how you dominate a room even when you’re the tiniest person in it - how are you so tiny? Good God, you’re hardly bigger than a minute but when you walk in the door all eyes are on you and - ”

“Augustus?”

“My lady?”

“Be quiet.”

And she pulled his mouth down to hers.

He kissed her like he was drowning, like he would die without the taste of her.

She kissed him in revelation, every touch opening up possibilities that had never before crossed her conscious mind. She kissed him as the memory of every smile, every quiet word, every touch, every secret glance bloomed with golden radiance, a new light spilling on their past and illuminating a future she wanted to reach for and grab with both hands.

He kissed her as months of hopeless dreaming came true, and clung to the moment in fear that it would never come again.

When they finally came up to breathe again, he was astonished to discover that they had been in that corner, kissing each other as though they might die without it, for nearly half an hour.

“I have to go,” she whispered at last. “Joachim’s leaving, and you…”

“I know,” he said, and dropped his forehead to hers. “Essie…”

“Hush.” She kissed him again, sweetly. “And don’t you dare apologize.”

He kissed her one last time, greedy and desperate. And then….

“Go,” he whispered hoarsely.

She went.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Three Weeks Later** _

“Not you, Admiral,” said Dame Estelle coldly as the others turned to leave. “You and I have some unfinished business.”

His face strangely pale, he turned to the group at the door. “Go on, Loretta,” he said quietly. “I’ll be on-planet until tomorrow at least. Com if you need me.” His own eyes narrowed, he turned to Estelle. “Won’t I, Governor?”

“I think you can take that as read, Admiral,” she said coolly, but there was a touch less frost in her voice this time.

Glancing swiftly between the two of them, Loretta nodded once and herded the rest of the small party out the door.

And then Estelle was on him, dragging his mouth furiously to hers as he snatched her to him and slammed her against the wall.

“You didn’t say a word,” she snapped, “not a damn _word_ for three weeks that wasn’t business, Augustus Khumalo, what in the name of _heaven_ were you - ”

“I had no right,” he growled against her neck, even as one large hand possessively cupped her bottom, stroking over already-damp fabric and leaving both of them gasping. “Damn it, Estelle, you’d only just realised, I wasn’t going to _demand_ \- what if you’d changed your mind? What if you’d regretted - ”

“Do I _look_ like the kind of woman who takes that sort of leap without _knowing?_ God _damn_ you, Gus, how long have you known me? Did you really think so little of me as to - ”

“Not you,” he gasped, nipping her jaw and leaving her shuddering. “Not of you, Estelle. Of myself.”

“If I could wring your fool neck…” She crushed her mouth to his, curled her fingers in his hair and gave a sharp yet astonishingly gentle tug. “Do you believe me now?”

“I daren’t do otherwise,” he gasped, and she nodded in approval, rocking her hips against his and making him groan.

“Smart man.” And she dug her heels into his back. “What do you want?”

Estelle in his arms has ignited a fire he’d never thought to feel, and there is only one answer. “You. Here. Now.”

“Then for God’s sake, Augustus, _take me_.”

He took her to the floor then, big hands pinning her wrists over her head as her hips bucked wildly and she arched into his mouth on her breasts.

“It shouldn’t be like this,” he murmured, scattering kisses over her collarbone. “I’m sorry, Essie. I’m so sorry. You deserve a proper bed and candlelight, not…”

“Be quiet,” she snapped breathlessly, lifting her head just enough to graze his jaw with her lips. “I promise you, Gus, I _promise_ you that tonight you can lay me in silk sheets with rose petals and worship me for hours if you like, but right now you don’t have the patience for it and - oh, _God!_ \- neither do I. Now _do that again_ \- ”

His hand found the slickness between her thighs, skirt hiking to her hips as he pulled her knickers aside and curled two trembling fingers inside her.

“I’ll hold you to that, darling,” he murmured into her neck, and she answered him with an inarticulate cry and tears on her cheeks as her body began to shake.

Curves and silk and lightning in her heartbeat; his mouth found her pulse point and suckled as she rippled around him, her head tilted back in pleasure, her cheeks flushed and lips kiss-bitten.

If this was a dream…

God help him, if this was a dream, he never wanted to wake.

She parted for his fingers like a fantasy, her body giving, slicking, drenching his hand in her musk as her hips rolled and she cried out, a high, unguarded thing that curled his toes.

 _‘Take me_ ,’ she had said. ‘ _You don’t have the patience for it and neither do I_ ,’ she had said.

Miracles like this didn’t happen to him.

He should have made love to her on silk and rosewood, her hair spilling over the pillows glowing like ebony, her skin cradled by fabric spun from clouds on a mattress as soft as seafoam.

Instead she lay flushed and panting on the rug, one hand curled about the wooden leg of a table, her hair a riot of wispy tangles in a halo around her face, her skirt wrinkled and her blouse half open, her body flushed as bright as roses while she arched into his hand.

She deserved silk and rosewood.

And she didn’t care.

“Estelle,” he murmured as love and desire swamped him in equal measure, and he kissed those swollen lips with a fervency that should have frightened him. “Don’t ask me to stop.”

“I never would,” she breathed. “Oh, God, please don’t.”

“I didn’t dare to dream I could have you this way. Oh, Essie…”

“Nobody’s ever touched me like this,” she rasped, her voice honey over sandpaper. “Nobody’s ever kissed me the way you do.”

“And how is that, darling?”

“Like I’m the most precious thing in the universe,” she managed, and closed her eyes against the truth on his face.

“You are.” He kissed her blindly, and felt her hips arch against his.

“Now,” she demanded, her movements urgent, almost frenzied. “Gus, take me _now_.”

“Darling, I have to get you undressed - ”

“No,” she said roughly, and reached for the seal of his trousers. “You don’t.”

He choked on his own breath at that, reached for her blouse and had it off before he knew how he managed it. His mouth found her breasts and she moaned aloud, arching into his touch, one small hand fisting in his hair as she clutched him to her. She filled his palms perfectly, heat and softness, her nipples pebbling tight under the stroke of his thumb.

“When we are finally in bed,” she gasped, her hips wriggling to hike her skirt higher around her waist, “I am going to taste you all over, Gus. I want you in my mouth so much it hurts.”

He bucked helplessly into the carpet as an image of those kiss-swollen lips closed around him flooded his mind, and she shuddered and went weak as his teeth accidentally grazed a nipple. “For the love of God, Essie,” he said hoarsely, “unless you want me to embarrass myself like a schoolboy, just keep _quiet_.”

Her lips curled, a sleepy, knowing, ‘cat-in-a-celery-patch smile that almost undid him, and then his trousers were down to his knees and her thighs were parting to cradle him.

Far beyond thought, he drew her soaked knickers aside and let her guide him in.


	3. Chapter 3

_Was it possible to die of desire?_

The thought drifted through Estelle’s mind like a scarf on the breeze, twining gently around her heart as Augustus gently cupped her cheek and eased inside of her.

Strong, hot, throbbing with months of pent-up wanting, he broke her open - her body, her heart, the love she’d never known she could feel. Her body - so soft, so wet, she didn’t think she’d ever been so _wet_ before, hadn’t thought she ever _could_ be - clutched around him as he entered her, hot and thick and so beautiful she wanted to cry. The look in his eyes…

Never in her life had anyone looked at her that way.

This was nothing like she had imagined. She’d dreamt of soft sheets and candlelight, of hours of teasing desire. She’d imagined taking him in her mouth, curling her tongue around him as his hands clutched her unbound hair, feeling him swell in her mouth until neither of them could breathe and he took her in an aching fog of love that stole wit and sense.

Instead she was sprawled on the rug of a meeting room she used nearly every day, her hair still half pinned, her blouse scattered and skirt still rubbing teasingly against the backs of her thighs, because waiting for a bed, for soft sheets, for anything beyond the time it took to join with each other had become impossible.

The nearest bed was two stories above them, and the only light they had glowed from the dying sun through the windows as he cradled her face and took her apart.

It was perfect. Beyond perfect. Beyond anything perfection could dream of.

Lost in a sea of emotion she’d only begun to understand for the beautiful, courageous, wholly undone man inside her, she tensed herself around his glorious fullness and heard him mutter her name like an ancient, timeless prayer.

One large, infinitely gentle hand covered her abdomen, and in a sudden slash of vicious longing she wished with everything in her for his child to be growing there.

“I could live without you, Essie,” he rasped in her ear, the endearing nickname making her heart sing, “if it was what duty demanded of me. Perhaps duty will, in time. But I can’t live without knowing I’m yours. Not any longer.”

“You are mine,” she whispered, when she could find the breath to speak. “You are mine, Gus. Always. As I am yours.” With an effort she lifted her head to find the weathered skin of his forehead, and kissed him softly there. “Duty does what duty must. But you will always come home to me. Trust in that, darling. Please.”

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, something hot and sacred in his voice. “Good God, Estelle. You are a miracle.”

“And you’re _my_ miracle,” she answered him fiercely, her body convulsing around the hot throbbing length of him. “God, you’re…”

“What?” His voice was truly wrecked now. “I’m what, Essie?”

“Loved,” she gasped at last. “You are so, so loved, Gus. So terribly loved.”

His hips bucked wildly into hers, and her body answered with another surge of wetness that bathed them both and left her feverish.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “my love, I am so sorry but I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.”

“I’m with you,” she murmured, her fingers curling tight in his close-cropped hair. “I am right here with you. Take everything you need. It’s yours, darling. It’s always been yours.”

She offered herself to him on a silver platter and he took her, carefully, tenderly, as though she were the only thing in the universe that mattered to him.

And though she knew duty bound them both, that the love they shared was only truly love when sacrificed as needs must for the star nation they loved more, just for that moment, when she looked into dark, burning eyes, she truly believed that she might just be precisely that.

Lost in him, mad for him, she clutched him fiercely to her and found the edge of heaven.

Her first orgasm rippled into her second, and then into her third, with hardly a lull at all between them. Estelle was never aware she had cried her lover’s name, or that she was babbling promises of love and forever that Augustus Khumalo, had he been sensible enough to recognise the words, would have paid his entire fortune to hear.

All she knew was the heat of him, and the strength of him, and the way he touched her as his mouth found hers.

He came with her name on his lips and her scent drowning his senses, surrendering to a passion almost frightening in its intensity.

“No,” she murmured weakly when he moved to pull out of her, “don’t. I don’t want the emptiness. I can’t bear it, not yet. Not with you.”

So he buried his face in her hair and covered her with his body, and for a brief infinity the world spun on without them.


	4. Chapter 4

He woke to the sensation of smooth, delicate skin draped over his. They had separated sometime during the night, but her legs were still tangled in his, her arm thrown over his shoulder, her head nestled against his chest. At his movement she let out a quiet whimper, but at the touch of his hand sliding along her still-tangled hair she nuzzled closer and drifted back to sleep.

He studied her for a moment with mingled shock and pride, then put his mind to considering their current situation.

Less than a minute later he was on his knees, her slender body cradled against his chest. With a grunt - and a rueful admission that it had indeed been far too long since he put in any quality gym time - he got to his feet, then made his way to the cleverly concealed elevator tucked in the corner of the meeting room.

The doors slid open to reveal the direct lift to the Governor’s private rooms, and just a minute later opened on a comfortable but much less opulent sitting room decorated in warm browns and dark jewel tones. He’d been here before, of course, many times, but her bedroom - that, he thought with a quiet chuckle, was new territory indeed.

_Not for long._

He actually _felt_ his cheeks flush, but all that became secondary when he swung open the door to his lover’s private room.

As he’d expected, the furniture was elegant but not ostentatious, suited to the woman who lived there. But the bed itself - though plain in style, it was easily big enough to fit six people, draped in rich cherry satin with a black comforter and bright, almost Oriental pillows; citrus yellow, china blue, jade green.

 _Well, at least there’ll be plenty of room_ , he thought whimsically, and gently eased her down. She murmured as cool satin touched her skin, giving a sensual wriggle that stole his breath, and murmured his name in her dreams as he stroked her hair.

It was the work of a moment to strip skirt and blouse; with a hot flush on his cheeks he bared her skin, thought briefly about the possibility of a nightgown, and dismissed it just as quickly.

She was so tiny; he had her under the covers in a moment. Flushing even further, he stripped what remained of his own clothes, and with a sigh of relief joined her under the covers.

She curled into him at once, with an approving murmur at his bare skin, and drifted off again.

Exhausted, and absolutely _happy_ for the first time in his life, he followed her.

~*~

When he woke next, it was to the sensation of soft lips on his and Essie’s murmur in his ear.

“Tell me this isn’t a dream,” she whispered, and her lips found his cheek.

Augustus Khumalo was not, as a general rule, acquainted with the emotion of self-satisfied, whisker-licking smugness. But the gasp that escaped Estelle as his hand found her wet, aching center introduced him to the sensation in fairly short order, and the whispered litany of curses as she arched against him only amplified his satisfaction.

“Oh,” she gasped when she finished shivering through the aftershocks, her eyes very wide and very bright.

“Does that answer your question to your satisfaction, my lady?” he rumbled in her ear, and she turned to nip him on the collarbone.

“You,” she informed him breathlessly, “are entirely too cheeky for your own good, Augustus Khumalo.”

He grinned at her, a roguish grin that left heat coiling low in her abdomen. “So you’ve said. Care to do something about it?”

She studied him for a moment, lips pursed and eyes twinkling in a way that slightly unnerved him, and then a smile curled her lips. It was a knowing smile - in fact, almost catlike.

That smile left him just a little concerned for the future of his sanity - and so he should have been.

In one smooth motion, she shoved the bedsheets down to his knees, baring them both to the open air. Her mouth found his chest, then the planes of his abdomen, and his breath began to quicken as he finally began to see what she was doing.

“Oh my God,” he said, his voice strangled.

“That’s ‘goddess’, if you please,” she murmured silkily, her breath gusting over his aching erection.

“ _Essie!_ Essie, _please…_ ”

“Patience.” That same silky, maddening whisper, and another gusting breath of heat that made him want to sob.

“I told you last night,” she said, low and vibrant, against the tender skin of his hipbone, “that I wanted you in my mouth so much it hurts. What about you, Gus? Do you want my mouth on you? Surrounding you? Swallowing you down?”

She looked up at him through long, lush lashes, her eyes glittering, and he let out a choking breath. “You can’t possibly want it more than I do,” he managed at last, half sobbing. “God help me, Essie, you’re…”

“Yours,” she said, and took him in her mouth with a sigh of pure relief.

He screamed.

~*~

No words existed for the scent of him, or the taste of him. None that could do him justice, at any rate, because ‘male’ and ‘earthy’ and ‘desire’ all paled next to simply ‘Gus’. He tasted like himself, like home, like satiety, like heaven and the stars and the rich glow of twilight. Warm and supple, his skin velvet on her tongue, the steel of him was sheathed in cloudspun softness, and she almost wept at the feel of him because he was steel and velvet, iron strength and velvet gentleness, enormous heart and steel spine. He was weak and he was strong, falling apart underneath her and yet strong enough to trust her in total vulnerability, and she closed her eyes as his scent drugged her senses and the world began to spin around her.

“Sweetheart. God, sweetheart, _please_ -”

Her hand found his then from pure instinct, and he crushed it in his as his thighs began to tremble.

The weight of him, heavy on her tongue, swelling in her mouth - she let him flood her senses, let herself fall into the maelstrom and whimpered around his length.

“Essie,” he rasped at last, “if you don’t stop right now I won’t be able to.”

She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even think of taking her mouth away. So she simply took him deeper, fluttered her eyelashes and finally let herself moan.

Suddenly his fingers tightened, his hips arched, and to her astonishment she felt her own body quake with the echoes of orgasm as he flooded her mouth.

Parting from him was a wrench, and yet it was not. Gently she kissed his softening length, then nuzzled his hip, tenderly, almost shyly. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, over and over, his great body still shaking. His other hand stroked the tumble of her silky curls, and she closed her eyes and rested her cheek against his hipbone with a sigh of absolute peace.

A breath or two later she found the strength to move again, softly kissed his abdomen and came to rest with her head on his chest.

Only then did she notice he was crying.

“Augustus,” she said quietly. “Augustus, please.”

He just shook his head and kissed her, licking the taste of himself from her mouth; she closed her eyes and let him, even as his tears bathed her cheeks too.

“Tell me,” she said when their lips had parted, and despite the gentleness of her voice he couldn’t escape the iron-willed compulsion there.

Reverently, one finger came up to stroke her cheek. “How can I, when the words don’t exist? Essie, to have you… for you to -”

“Augustus,” she said then, and this time naked steel rang beneath the velvet. “Augustus, my darling man, it was my _pleasure_. And if you’d been inside me at the time - the other way, I mean - you’d have felt it for yourself.”

The wonder that lit his eyes then was gift enough for millennia, and a fresh rain of tears poured down that plain, weathered, extraordinary face.

“Don’t,” she said, her voice breaking as she kissed the tears away. “Oh, God, darling, I’m sorry -”

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” he rasped, taking her mouth in a hungry, demanding kiss. “ _Never_ apologise for what you’ve given me, Estelle. _Never_. It’s from beauty, not sadness. Never from sadness. Not with you.”

She blinked up at him and cuddled closer, and his arm tightened around her shoulders. Her eyes, always afire, seemed oddly vulnerable now, and when she spoke it was with a meek uncertainty entirely uncharacteristic of the self-possessed woman he knew.

“You’ll stay?” She shook her head, once, as if in confusion. “That’s not what I meant. That is, I did, but I know you can’t. And yet…”

“You’re right,” he rumbled, his lips brushing her hair. “I can’t. Not every night. But don’t you think, Estelle Matsuko, that I will spend one more night apart from you than we must. We will find a way, whatever it takes. That I promise you.”

“So you _will_ stay.”

 _..._ _with me_ , was the unspoken clarification, and he chuckled and hugged her closer at the thought that he could ever conceivably walk away from the woman who had turned his world upside down. “Yes, Essie,” he said, the warmth of his voice spilling through her, “I’ll stay. Of course I’ll stay. Did you truly think I wouldn’t?”

“I hoped,” she murmured, her body melting against his. “But I had to ask. When things seem too good to be true, they usually are.”

He drew a finger along her bare breast, felt her shudder and thought he might fly. “Does the rule also apply if the situation is mutual?”

“Apparently not,” she gasped, and arched to fill his hand with her breast. “Since you are, as far as I can tell, here in my bed and I haven’t woken to find this is a dream.”

Blindsided with the shock of what might-have-been - of what, God help him, he could have missed through his own blind stupidity - he yanked her hard against his chest, pressed trembling lips to the crown of her head and curled around her as though frightened she might vanish.

“Hush,” she murmured, her breath caressing his collarbone. “It doesn’t matter now. We are here. We found each other, Gus, and no one can ever take that away from us. I love you. Trust in that.”

“I do.” He still trembled, but gradually his grip began to ease. “I do, Essie. Even when I can trust in nothing else, I trust in you.”

“And I, you.” She kissed his chest, his jaw, then curled contentedly into him and closed her eyes. His big hand dragged through the wild mass of her hair, and she wanted to purr.

“Your hair,”  he murmured into her ear. “It’s so tangled.”

“Your fault,” she said, teasing affection saturating her voice.

“I heartily repent.” The laugh shimmered in his voice. “Shall I make amends?”

Slowly, she tilted her face to his, studying him for a long moment. And then, without a word, she reached for the comb on the bedside table, and his eyes darkened.

“Sit up,” he murmured, and she obeyed. Her hair fell, thick and fine, spilling nearly to her waist over bare shoulders and breasts. He began to work the comb through the tangles, unpracticed, slightly clumsy even, but it was _his_ hands in her hair, his hands doing this terribly intimate thing, and she was only slightly surprised by the wetness dewing her cheeks.

A ragged breath, then two. Over and over he stroked, the heat of him glowing warm at her back, his hands caressing her with every touch. When her hair slid through his fingers like spun silk, soft and tangle-free, she leaned back against his broad chest, felt his arms come around her and closed her eyes in bliss.


End file.
